Nothing Can Be As It Seems A King Arthur OneShot
by OccasionallyActive
Summary: A woman grieves over the loss of her favorite knight. OneShot, although I'll consider adding more to it if you guys want me to... TristanOC.


**A/N:** Phew. o.O' Erm...yeah. Just watch King Arthur again for the first time in a long while. I got inspired, what can I say? Sorry if it's nto very good. I'm kind of tired. .

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything you recognize. Everything else, though, is mine. SO BACK THE F OFF!

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Nothing Can Be As It Seems

Tears pour swiftly down her cheeks, her head in her hands as silent sobs rock her body back and forth. She had just received the news of the death of the man she loved. How could it be true? Surely this was just a sick joke they were playing on her! He couldn't be dead!

But, as the horses pulled in the wagons holding the two men's bodies, she knew it was the truth. Her heart ached with longing for the simple touch of her scout's hands. He had been gentler than any of the other knights would ever know. And now? Well, now he would never touch her again. Now, she would be doomed to wander the rest of this sick, lonely life alone and without him.

She couldn't take it any more so she stood up shakily from the ground and followed the sad funeral procession to the graveyard. They lowered both men's bodies into their respective graves and then set the charmer's on fire. After they had all paid their respects, she walked over to her scout's grave and kneeled down beside it. Her pale cheeks were still streaked with tears and her eyes were nearly blinded with them, but she was simply content to be by his side.

After all, if she could just lie here, she would never have to worry about anything ever again. She could lie down in the soft, wet grass, close her eyes, and deem to never again open them. It seemed the right choice to her, but the red haired lover of a different knight pulled her to her feet.

"I know you were attached to 'im, dear. But, you need to let him go. He's gone, now. He's not comin' back. Move on and come home with us."

The red head didn't give her a choice in the matter. She began to pull her back to the wall. Pulling her away from the man that she would never cease loving even though he had never returned the favor. He had been loyal to her, though. He had been kind, and gentle and so open that she wondered why so many people were frightened of him. Sure, he killed for pleasure. But, didn't all men take at least a little pleasure in killing their enemies?

She finds herself in a heavy fog as she stumbles back to her room. She pushes open the door and then swiftly enters the room, leaning back against the door so it closed and she slid down it. Her sorrow for this occasion would never come to an end. Oh, how she longed to rip her heart out so that she may never again feel the pain of loss! And the overwhelming sadness itself was so final that she could almost feel that she would never love again.

She got slowly to her feet and stumbled her way over to her bed. Once she reached it she collapsed down upon it, her face buried in her pillow. Did it matter if she died? Honestly, she couldn't see how it would! No one beside her scout had ever paid her the least bit of attention. She guessed she couldn't really blame them, though. Prostitutes were highly thought of, and even though she hadn't been one ever since she met the scout, she still had the reputation of one.

She rolled over onto her back and let out a slow, heavy sigh as she stared blankly up at the ceiling. Maybe, just maybe, she would be able to grieve so fully that she could simply die of sadness after she closed her eyes. She did this slowly, longing to keep them open as if she somehow felt what was to come in the late hours of the night. Her body, however, was much too exhausted to allow her to do anything other than sleep.

"Lina," the harsh whisper barely breaks through to her mostly unconscious mind. The man's voice sounded odd, as if he was injured, had not spoken in a while, or possibly a mixture of both.

She jolts awake out of her dead sleep, her eyes unfocused and sticky with the still drying tears of earlier in the night. How late, or early, was it? And, the more important question, who on Earth was leaning over her? "Wh-who are you?"

The voice sounds disappointed and a certain quality makes it clear that there is a frown upon the man's lips. "It has been not even a day and already you have forgotten me? And here I was, thinking I should come and see you first…"

Lina blinks. Had the man just said what she thought he'd said? But……it couldn't be. he was dead and buried! "Tristan…?" Her voice is hoarse, as if she dares not believe that name that left her lips.

A wry tone enters the man's voice as he speaks again. "So you do remember me. Well, I am glad of that. Now, scoot over. I am weary from being buried alive." He was not a man to make jokes, but the sarcasm dripped heavily off his every word.

Lina slowly scoots over so the man she had thought was dead can lie down beside her. What was this magic? Was he real? Was he truly here with her or was it simply a foul trick her mind was playing on her? "Are you……real?"

The man reaches out a hand and gently touches her cheek, a slight smirk tugging at his chapped and bloodied lips. "What do you think?"

Her hand immediately grasps his and holds it to her face. Fresh tears leak from the corners of her eyes as her broken voice answers his question. "I think you are a sick fiend who should learn to speak louder when he finds himself being buried alive."

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**A/N2:** I would honestly appreciate any feedback you can give me. If you hate it, say so! I can take it. Honestly. And...if you're interested in reading some of my original work, e-mail me. I don't bite, I promise!


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